Something wicked danced in my chest. Something akin tohope,though I hadn’t trusted that accursed trick of a foolish heart since I’d watched a deity burn. But Belle… Belle was the leader of the rebel army, and someone I could presume was free of corruption, no matter which side Alicia pledged her loyalty to.
That clever, vexing Triloth would move the mountain to claim a captured Trila-Glís, so her mundane brats might grow up knowing the comfort of a secure future.
My heart stopped racing as the captain guided me down a narrow hallway.
All was not lost, not yet. No, even bound to Captain Asher Rawlings. Even without my ki and all that defined me, I was not powerless. Not with me here, in the bedchamber of the enemy—not with Belle and her good men moving a mountain to us.
“Well, would you look at that,” Marco crowed when we rounded the corner. Elbows braced on a granite kitchen counter, he continued, “The wildcat is all creepy smiles this morning. You really can charm them, can’t you, old man?”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” the captain drawled. “I happen to know the reason for that smile is better left locked away inside her lovely, mad head.”
I let the murderous thoughts play on my lips, grinning at Marco. “Unlike your master, I’m happy to share.”
Marco straightened, palms raised, eyes wide.
The captain spun me, pinning me with an inky glare. “Come now. Failure so soon?” He tisked, jerking his chin over my shoulder. “Apologize to Marco for your rudeness, pet, or our bargain is off.”
A tremor ran through me, but I closed my eyes, resisting the urge to reach for something that wasn’t there. And then I turned, rigid, flashing Marco the widest smile I could muster. “My humblest apologies,sir.”
Sorry I cannot paint the walls with your blood and feast on your ki. Sorry I cannot wear your innards as a string of bile-soaked pearls, and winter inside your bloated stinking corpse.
Marco swallowed, throat working as his lips parted.
“Good morning, sir. I’ve got pork an’ hash on for breakfast, and—oh!”Alicia cried, treacherous green eyes going wide as they flew over me. “Priestess! You alright, lass?” she asked, rushing to my side, her pretty face still marked with slaver’s bruises.
I jerked back, bumping into the captain’s hard frame, teeth bared.
She paled beneath the sickly yellow patch shadowing her left eye. “I-I only mean that your injuries were—they were gruesome, and—”
“Don’t concern yourself with my well-being, traitor,” I hissed, pressing deeper into the captain to avoid her touch.
Alicia’s jaw dropped. “What—”
“Normally I’d enjoy watching two women get physical,” Marco said, moving to stand at Alicia’s back, hands on her shoulders, lips to her ear. “But let’s not pick a fight with this one, pretty girl.” He tugged Alicia behind him, whispering at full, theatrical volume. “You can never tell if the crazy ones are going to purr or bite. And you don’t want to be wrong with the wildcat here.”
The captain snorted, tucking my pendant under his shirt. Out of sight. Black gaze flicking over his shoulder before a tight, false smile graced his lips.
Eyes narrowed, I noted the tension in his shoulders. The hard edge to his lips. The white knuckles of the fist not tight on the back of my neck.
We had company. He could sense it coming.
Marco straightened, the humor falling off his face when he, too, noted the change in his master. “How many?”
“Just Tilcot.”
“No guard?”
The captain shook his head, lips pressed in a thin, white line.
“Good. That’s good,” Marco said, arms crossed. “Means he’s only here to scold you for being naughty.”
“Scold him?” Alicia squeaked. “Is he—are we in trouble, then?”
“No, no, pretty girl,” Marco soothed, petting the weapon at his hip. “Just a bit of broken protocol. Nothing important.”
Ignoring the banter, I strained, listening for the heavy footfall of Elites. Straining for that which was not there.
The air pressure shifted, making the window panes chatter in their frames.
